


Ante Up

by BoldlyGone1



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Augustus Parsons' A+ Parenting, Blood, Description of Dying, Gen, Oneshot, TAZ: Dust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 03:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoldlyGone1/pseuds/BoldlyGone1
Summary: “Gus, what did – what did dying feel like?”A simple question from Gandy leads to Augustus getting significantly more guilt-tripped than he bargained for.





	Ante Up

 

              “Gus, what did – what did _dying_ feel like?”

              They’re loitering in the town square by the Black Maria, waiting for Errol to come back from speaking to a witness. Augustus had been making snarky observations about passers-by, and Gandy had been absentmindedly fiddling with a playing card. Now silence freezes between them, so taut it almost seems to creak like an iceberg. A swirl of dust, displaced by the dry breeze, bites Gandy’s skin as it settles over the two of them.

                Augustus clears his throat. “I’m surprised that you of all people would be interested in the gory details.”

                Gandy puts her chin up, adjusts her pince-nez. “Call it research. That is, if you don’t mind talking about it,” she adds, realizing it might be a sensitive topic.

                “Not at all,” Augustus drawls, “But I wouldn’t want to give you nightmares.”

                 She swats at his arm, knowing both that her hand will go through him and that it will make him squeak and shudder. It does, and he glares at her before regaining his composure.

                “Very well, then, Miss Dancer, in the name of research.” He swipes her playing card and inspects it as though planning a letter to quality control. “It felt like anger.”

                 “Anger?” Gandy is surprised, and for more than one reason. She had expected physical sensations, not emotion – and definitely not emotion from _Gus._ “Why anger?”

                 “Well, I suppose I was rather startled at first,” he admits, pinching the ends of the card together so it forms a loop (and ignoring Gandy’s scowl). “But then there was anger, because I knew I was dead, and I knew that. . .that buffoon would take my company from me.” He grimaces. “My pride and joy, Gandy! Can you imagine how it would feel to know that everything you had ever loved, that which you had committed your life to, the most important thing in your entire world, was out of your care and in the hands of an utter fool?”

                 “What about your daughter?”

                  The card shoots up into the air as Gus’ fingers slip, sinking through his hand on the way down. “I beg your pardon?”

                 “Your daughter,” Gandy repeats, stooping to pick it up. “What’s her name – starts with an A, doesn’t it? If you feel so passionately about losing your company, you must be devasted about being taken from your daughter.” She smooths out the bent card, watching him from the corner of her eye.

                 He huffs. “I seem to recall that we were discussing the sensation of death, not unnecessary personal ties I may have on this mortal plane.”

                 “You had her sent to a guardian, didn’t you?” Gandy presses. “Have you been to see her since you were killed? Does even know you’re a gh – ”

                 “You want to know how it felt?” Augustus gets up in her face, pince-nez to bifocals. The air grows misty and cold despite the blazing sun, like the silence was not an iceberg but a glacier here to freeze her solid for centuries. Gandy shivers and takes a step back, feeling the wheel of the Black Maria dig into her shoulder blades.

                  Augustus drops his voice low and spooky. “It was surprise, and adrenaline, and then fear, an all-consuming fear, Gandy Dancer, can you imagine it? It shoots down into your stomach like a spike and goes up into your throat and chokes you. And your blood is wet and warm running down your skin and down your throat, and you can taste it, you can drink your own blood, Gandy Dancer, and you can’t breathe, and you’re falling away from the world and it’s going dark, and you know that everything you’ve ever done is meaningless and you will never see anyone you loved ever again, and all that’s ahead of you is either oblivion or Hell! Can you imagine that, Gandy? Can you?!”

                  He’s yelling by the end of it, the air so cold Gandy’s almost gasping – or, yes, maybe a little of that is from fear. Augustus backs up and it seems like he’s panting too, from the emotional exertion rather than an actual need to draw air. Gandy steadies her breathing, waving away the concerned glances of pedestrians as the temperature returns to normal and the goosebumps on her arms settle down.

                 Augustus is several paces away, flickering in and out of visibility and staring mulishly at the spire of the church in the distance.

                 Gandy uncrumples the playing card from her fist and runs her thumb along its rough edge, choosing her next words. “My parents died not long after I was born,” she says quietly. “In a train accident. That’s where I got my name – the crew named me.” Out of the corner of her eye she sees Gus stop flickering, but she keeps turning the card in her hands, feeling the crease from where he bent it. “That’s why I’m afraid of dying – I mean, gosh, just really terrified – and why I’ve always wanted to see if there’s a way to stop it. So I don’t have to die, and maybe so I can keep other people from dying, too.” She looks at Gus. “So other kids don’t have to lose their parents.”

                 He’s still not looking at her, but he’s firmly visible, and she can tell he’s listening. She tries to smooth the card again.

                 “Anna,” he says eventually. “That is my daughter’s name.”

                 “You should visit her.” Gandy watches him stare at the church. “She’s twelve, it’s not like she doesn’t remember you. I wish I could remember my parents.”

                 “There wasn’t much of me to remember.” Then he says, as though trying to brush the first thought away: “And it’s been five years. She’ll have made her peace.”

                “She’ll want to know her father is still around,” Gandy presses. “Who knows? Maybe she’s already found out – it’s not like you’re subtle about it. And it’s not too late to give her more to remember. The future happens whether you want it to or not, but that doesn’t mean you have no control over it. Besides,” she says, letting some humor creep into her voice, “It’d be good for her to know death isn’t always the end. It might help her to not be afraid of it – you wouldn’t want her to end up like me.”

                There’s a moment, and then he turns, finally. “You are a singular person, Miss Dancer, and I doubt that there could be many like you. The world might spontaneously combust.” His mustache twitches in what could nearly be a smile, and he mutters, so soft she almost doesn’t hear it: “That being said, there are far worse people she could emulate.” Gus plucks the card from her hands and taps her on the nose with it, earning an irritated yelp. “I cannot imagine what is keeping our associate. I do hope he hasn’t been abducted – we’d have to go in guns blazing, as it were, and I have better things to do today.”

                 Gandy grins. “Like what?”

                “Like never you mind,” he sniffs. “I imagine you’ll be hustling people at the bar all night. If you’re not careful, you’ll corrupt yourself through sheer greed and immorality.”

                Gandy snorts and shakes her head. “I have a deal with a demon and a book that lets me talk to a chaos god. I think I’m past worrying about immorality – and besides, I seem to remember you helping me cheat.”

               He puts a hand to his chest in mock indignation. “My dear Gandy, what are you implying?”

               “Well, I think one of us is rubbing off on the other, but I’m not sure who.”

               He adjusts his tie with a pompous air. “I have always tended to be quite influential to those around me through the sheer impressive magnitude of my personality.”

              “So you’re the more corrupt, then?” Before he can argue, Gandy swipes her card out of his hand. “Give that back, you old specter, and let’s go find Errol.” She sets off across the square, not waiting for him to answer.

               “If I must,” Gus murmurs, and she glances back in time to see him casting one more look at the church spire before turning to catch up with her. What they will each make of their future, the next minutes, hours, days, Gandy doesn’t know. But for now they move ahead, and within that future the past, like dust, will settle where it may.

                               

 

 


End file.
